


first light

by tansypool



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Early Days, Early Mornings, F/F, Fluff, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 20:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17884874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tansypool/pseuds/tansypool
Summary: A few early mornings, as shared by the Doctor and Yaz.





	first light

**Author's Note:**

> Unashamed, unapologetic fluff.

They sit opposite each other at a slightly sticky table in a greasy little café, with cups of tea so strong and sweet that their spoons almost stand upright. Yaz rarely puts so much sugar in hers, but she found herself unconsciously mirroring the Doctor, and honestly, it’s the only thing keeping her awake.

The Doctor finally has her fried egg sandwich, which she has put so much brown sauce in that it drips onto her plate. She doesn’t eat with any particular delicacy, and the egg yolk running down her hand goes completely unnoticed. Then again, she’s been wearing the same bedraggled outfit since she fell through the top of a train; not wearing her breakfast seems to be the least of her concerns.

Neither of them wants to talk. The Doctor looks as exhausted as Yaz feels, staring at the off-white table while she eats, at a fleck of something red that dried into place long ago. Yaz’s mind drifts back to Graham and Ryan, alone at their flat; she forces the thought away, and then forces away the guilt of allowing herself that moment of peace.

She can’t bring herself to say anything, instead picking at the toast she felt obliged to order and can’t quite eat. It’s long gone cold, but it still serves as some sort of distraction, and she lets her mind wander to anywhere but _there_.

They sit in that awkward silence, with the grief and exhaustion palpable, the hum of the overhead lights and the clatter of the staff not quite breaking through. And then, she finds herself watching the Doctor: watching her as she wraps her fingers around the mug of tea, and her gaze shifts the window and the first light of dawn, the fluorescent lights casting shadows against her features.

She can’t help but notice that she’s the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen.

\---

The TARDIS doesn’t quite have days the way the Earth does – the lights brighten and dim sometimes, in what Yaz supposes is a twenty-four hour cycle, but it doesn’t feel quite natural.

Still, she can’t help but fall into a rhythm of early mornings. Long before the boys wake up, she’ll make herself a cup of tea, and read a book while she wakes up, or wander the corridors and try not to get lost. She never does – the corridors inevitably lead to the console room, though it feels like she’s being led there.

The lights are still dim in their imitation of dawn when Yaz leaves her bedroom one particular so-called morning, wanting nothing more than a cup of tea. She’s not used to company – she’s never quite sure where the Doctor is when the rest of them are asleep, and the boys are never awake that early – so she’s surprised to find the Doctor already sat in the kitchen, with a book and an empty mug.

“Morning!” The Doctor drags the word out, her tone lilting, and she smiles, beautiful and completely uninhibited, staring straight into Yaz’s eyes as she places her book face-down on the table, keeping her page.

Yaz frowns a little at the surprise, but she feels herself smiling too, completely outside of her own control. “Don’t you sleep?” The Doctor is always energetic, but even then, she seems strangely perky given the hour.

“Didn’t feel like it. I’ll be fine.” The Doctor picks up her mug as though to toast with it, and then goes to take a drink – but only then seems to realise that it’s empty.

“You’re weird, you know that, right?” Yaz teases.

The Doctor doesn’t say anything, instead smirking and winking at Yaz over the brim of her empty mug.

“That answers that. More tea?” Yaz doesn’t give her time to respond, and takes the mug straight from the Doctor’s hand. She has to try not to drop it when their fingers brush, and a jolt runs through her core.

Yaz can feel the Doctor’s gaze on her back as she fiddles with teabags and boils the kettle, but the Doctor doesn’t speak until she can make eye contact again.

“Where do you fancy going today?”

Yaz thinks for a moment, biting at her lip. “I’d like to go to the beach.” It was the first thing to come to mind, but she may as well stick with it. “One where the water doesn’t try to eat you, probably.”

“Non-carnivorous beach, got it.” Yaz would swear that the Doctor was joking, but she looks entirely sincere.

There’s a story behind that, Yaz is sure of it. “Please tell me there aren’t actually carnivorous beaches.” The kettle clicks, steam erupting from the spout, and Yaz turns away from the conversation, still listening closely as she makes the tea. Too much sugar for the Doctor; not quite so much for herself.

“Well, I mean, not carnivorous as such, but there are planets where the whole sea’s acidic. Step in a tidal pool and you lose your shoe.”

“If it’s only a shoe…” Yaz grins, and picks up the mugs of tea, trying not to slosh either of them.

The Doctor reaches up for her mug with both hands, grabbing it firmly despite it being too hot for Yaz to touch. She almost purrs her “Thank you!” before taking a sip – Yaz tries to do the same, against her better judgement, but almost immediately burns her tongue.

With a startled _Ah!_ she sticks her tongue out between her teeth, trying to get some cool air on it.

The Doctor sees her expression, and giggles over the top of her mug, the corners of her eyes crinkling. It’s only at the giggle that Yaz is distracted from the pain – she looks up and tries to look stern, but the Doctor just sticks her tongue out at her instead, and continues drinking her own tea, looking smug.

Yaz knows that her tongue is probably going to sting for the rest of the day, but for the look on the Doctor’s face, it feels strangely worth it.

\---

Yaz would never say to anybody that she had hoped for the Doctor to wind up in her bed – but she wasn’t quite expecting the logistics of how it happened.

She’s grown used to shaky, turbulent landings, and to the Doctor talking softly to the TARDIS, almost reassuringly. She’s grown used to landing and hoping that they’re in the right galaxy and the right century, and being rudely surprised. It’s not a high success rate of knowing what lay outside the doors.

But somehow, they’ve landed in Sheffield, about six hours after they last left. The streetlights are glowing in the darkness outside the TARDIS doors – suddenly, they’re the only source of light, as the TARDIS lights gutter into nothing.

“She, um, does that sometimes, I’ll meet you outside in a few?” The Doctor is squinting at a screen as she says it, and she punctuates herself by tapping at the screen.

None of them want to linger and see what happens next – but nothing seems to, and true to her word, the Doctor is outside of the TARDIS nearly as quickly as the rest of them were, locking the doors as soon as she leaves.

“She just needs to rest, I think, but overnight should do it. She probably wants to rearrange everything without us there.” The Doctor bounces on her toes, as though anticipating what to say next. “So, sleepover?”

It’s in that moment that Yaz remembers something that she’d all but forgotten – her parents and Sonya are in Edinburgh, looking at flats before Sonya starts her university course. She’d said goodbye to them that morning, weeks ago.

The words are out before she can stop them – “You can stay at mine, if you want.” She ignores the look that Ryan gives her, wide-eyed and all-too-knowing, and focuses on the Doctor’s grin, on her excited, “Oh, brilliant!”

They’d said their goodbyes, and the two of them had stopped at the chippy that Yaz grew up going to, when her parents had both worked late.

She knows that she should have been put off watching the Doctor mixing curry sauce and mushy peas for her chips. But she can cope with the ridiculous amount of sugar in tea, and the fact that she’ll eat anything in a sandwich, so she isn’t surprised that she’s so calm about this, too.

She shouldn’t find everything the Doctor does quite so endearing. Yet she does.

The way she lets all the foam from the toothpaste build up inside her mouth. The way she tries – but not very hard – to hide how unhappy she is with the idea of sleeping on the couch.

And alongside finding everything the Doctor does endearing, Yaz finds herself willing to do anything asked of her. She wasn’t expecting to find herself being asked to share her bed.

She definitely hadn’t expected the way the Doctor sprawls in her sleep – lying on her stomach with her limbs out of control, enough that Yaz needs to assert herself just to have room to sleep, and even then, the Doctor is laying on her arm. As it is, she wakes up to the dawn light with the Doctor’s arm stretched across her stomach, their faces close enough that she can feel the Doctor’s breath against her neck. It’s a split second from being barely awake to being unable to relax, trying to hold herself still despite her racing heart.

She hadn’t expected to share her bed with the Doctor, and she already doesn’t want it any other way ever again, even if it means waking up with her heart in her throat every morning. It’s worth it for the sight of the Doctor, her face relaxed in sleep, the way her lips sit apart, relaxed, the slight twitches as she seems to stir at something.

Despite holding herself as still as she can, Yaz sees the Doctor’s eyes flutter open, and she can’t look away, it’ll feel too obvious.

If she focuses, stares at the flecks of dark brown and the way the light reflects in her eyes, she won’t get distracted by her lips.

The Doctor doesn’t pull away, as Yaz had half expected her to – she tilts her head up, to look at Yaz properly, and snuggles a little closer.

She doesn’t want to hesitate – tries to overcome how suddenly she freezes, in shock or delight or some unnamed feeling. And with that hesitation overcome, she cautiously wraps her arm around the Doctor, as she murmurs, “Good morning.”

She feels the Doctor relax against her arm, and feels herself relax, too.

\---

Yaz wakes up to a sudden weight in her bed, and she warily opens one eye to see the Doctor’s face, inches from her own. It had been one of those ever-rarer nights where she sleeps alone – when the Doctor can’t quite bring herself to sleep, and disappears into the endless corridors of the TARDIS, because as she puts it, “I’ll only keep you awake.”

Not that Yaz often questions being kept awake – or the Doctor’s methods in doing so.

The Doctor stares into Yaz’s eyes, in the way she always does, that makes Yaz feel like her entire soul is exposed. Her soul which, in this moment, is still waking up, and she can feel that that is clear across her face.

She can see what might be a touch of guilt in the Doctor’s eyes – but then she sees her eyes flicker to Yaz’s lips, just for a split second, before resuming their piercing stare. “I was cold.”

“What time is it?” Yaz says – or thinks she says, she’s neither sure the words actually came out, nor sure she’s not dreaming this.

“Early?” The guilt again, but not enough to have left Yaz asleep.

Yaz smirks. “Just say you wanted to cuddle.”

The Doctor pauses for a moment, before crawling under the blankets and curling into Yaz’s side. “I just wanted to cuddle.”

And Yaz cuddles back into the Doctor, close enough to hear her hearts, and to feel the radiant heat from her body – she’s definitely not cold.

But she can feel herself fading back into sleep despite the sudden awakening, and the last thing she notices is the soft press of the Doctor’s lips against her forehead as she is pulled even closer.


End file.
